


The Ruins of Gorlan?

by Falcon97



Category: Ranger's Apprentice - John Flanagan
Genre: Gen, Humor, Parody, Randomness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-03
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 04:57:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3475277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Falcon97/pseuds/Falcon97
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Welcome to my chapter-by-chapter parody of 'The Ruins of Gorlan,'!  Please note that I love John Flanagan's book series and this is just my warped way of appreciating his magnificent work.....<br/>When Moranate the Lord of the Really Wet Mountains Which Are Also Really Dark is foiled in a dastardly attempt to take of the kingdom of Araluuuuen he plots his revenge. Armed with deadly Gargals and Klankykara who can stand against him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Of Sulky Villains

Moranate, Lord of the Really Wet Moutains Which Are Also Really Dark and former Baron of Gory Fief in the Kingdom of Araluuuuen, looked out over his windy crib and for the 1000000002347th time cursed (which has been censored for the convenience of the audience).

It had been fifteen years since he had been booted out of Araluuuuen and made to rule over this place. Gory Fief had been beautiful, green fields...forests...rainbows...marshmallows... The Really Wet Moutains Which Are Also Really Dark was a desolate place compared to the beauty of Gory Fief.

It had been fifteen years since he'd been booted out of Gory Fief and shoved into the Really Wet Mountains Which Were Also Really Dark, but he could still remember the beauty of Gory Fief. The streams had been full of water and fish, and the forests which with game (mainly checkers and scrabble). But these mountains were desolate and empty.

A platoon (which is another word for group) of Gargals were drilling in the courtyard below. For a few moments Moranate watched them wielding the power tools whilst chanting Gangham Style in Korean for the chorus they would all pause the do the dance then resume drilling.

They were strange mishappen beings, one-third hamster, one-third labrador and one-tenth human (no-one was to sure what the rest of them was). The Gargals had avoived all contact with humans (which was a wise move) and had lived all this time in the Really Wet Mountains. No one in living or dead memory had set eyes on them but rumours and stories had remained of the tribes of hemi-semi-demi-intelligent beasts in the mountains.

Moranate, planning a really evil rebellion, had snuck out of his castle in the middle of the night and set off to find them. It had taken him a really, really, really long time to find the beasts, (mainly because he kept on turning right instead of left) but he'd found them.

The Gargals relied on a primitive form of mind communication, not speaking any langauge. When marching or working they would chant Gangham Style in Korean, a phenomena that would baffle scientists in centuries to come. As a result of this they were susceptible to to domination by a superior intelligence and willpower, Moranate soon bent them to his will and they become his backside-kicking army of doom.

Now, as he stared at them, he compared them to the knights in sparkly armour at Castle Gory and their ladies dressed in silk dresses cheering them on as they competed in tounaments. Comparing them to the pink and purple furred creatures he cursed for the 1000000002348th time.

The Gargals attune to his emotions through his thoughts, sensed his anger and paused in the Gangham Styling and drilling. Angrily he directed them back to the drilling and the Gangham Styling resumed.

Morgarath moved away from the double glazed window, and shuffled closer to ye olde medieval radiator that seemed incapable of raising the temperature in the room above 30 degrees F.

Fifteen years, he thought pouting and crossing his arms. Fifteen years since he'd tried to kick the newly crowned King Duncan, a youth in his twenties, off the throne. He had planned it really well, the awesomeness and sheer evilness of his plan had blown him away; the old king's sickness had progressed enabling him to gradually take control and split the other barons apart and then enable him to seize the throne.

In secret he'd trained up his Garagls, massing them up in the emountains, ready for the king's death as the barons went over to Castle Araluuuuen for the funeral, leaving the armies with no-one to lead them. They he'd struck. Within a few days 39.556594806548964567% of the kingdom was his.

Duncan had been young and inexperienced and couldn't have stuck it out against him. The throne had been his! Or so the thought...

Then Olde Lorde North'olde, the olde supreme army commander had got some younger barons into a loyal confederation, partly bribing them with marshmallows. This gave strength to Duncan and his other supporters and the armies had met at Hack'em Heath, close by the Slippy River, and the battle had swayed in the balance for roughly five hours with attack and counterattack and attack and counterattack and attack and counterattack and attack and counterattack. The Slippy was a shallow river but the quicksand and wetsand and dampsand along with the mud had formed an impossibly impassable barrier protecting the right side of Morgarath's army.

But then one of the grey-green-brown cloaked medlers known as the Grangers of Awesomeness led a force of heavy cavalry (like really, really heavy) across a secret ford a really, really long way up stream. The horsemen and horses had appeared at the crucial moment then galloped in slow motion towards Morgarath's army with epic battle music playing and then routed them.

The Gargals were naturally terrified of horses and battle music and so turned tail and legged it back to the Really Wet Moutains Which Are Also Really Dark. Moranate went with them (he didn't like battle music either) and he had been in the mountains for these fifteen years. Waiting, plotting and hating the men who had done this to him (though he did kinda bring it on himself).

Now, he thought, with an evil laugh, it was time for his revenge (bad guys really do like revenge don't they?). His ninja spies of doom had told him the Kingdom was growing slack and complacent and his presence was all but forgotten. The name of Moranate was a legend now, a name mothers used to make their children eat broccoli and cauliflower.

The time was ripe. Once again he'd lead his hinney-kicking army of Gargals into an attack. But this time he would have allies. And this time, he would cause confusion before hand (just to make sure). This time there wouldn't be anyone left alive to aid King Duncan.

For the Gargals weren't the only evil, creepy, creatures of doom in the Really Wet Moutains Which Are Also Really Dark, he had two other allies, even more evil and doomy, the dreadful beasts known as...the Klankykara.

The time was ripe to unleash them.


	2. Of Nerves and Wards

'Eat the flippin' food! Do you have any idea how long it took to prepare this stuff?!'

Jenny, blonde haired, blue eyed and wearing an insane amount of kohl eyeliner along with a rough, studded leather jacket, scowled at Will and jerked her hand in the direction of the massive plate of food before Will.

Will smiled weakly and nibbled a pea before placing it down on the plate half-eaten. His stomach felt like it was tied up in a series of knots, hitches and braids due to the tension and anticipation he felt (meaning he was nervous).

Tomorrow was "Pick An Apprentice Day" the most important even in Will's life so far (next to winning a stuffed rabbit at a fair) where a Craftmaster choose an apprentice, this would determine how he would spend the rest of his life.

'I envisage that the nervous psychological state your are currently experiencing is rendering you unable to consume any amount of food,' said George chucking his loaded spoon over his shoulder as he grabbed the lapels of his jacket in a manner that made him look very wise. He was thin, gangly and loved a good debate, the problem is most people couldn't understand what he was saying most of the time, 'A dire thing nerves don't you agree? It quite restricts and freezes you, so you can't think, eat or speak.'

The group of teens sat quietly for a few moments mentally translating this speech, 'I'm not nervous,' Will said eventually realising that George had said.

Horace snorted sounding like a horse.

George nodded vigorously, his hair flying up and down, eyeballs joggling in their sockets, 'However, viewed from another starkly contrsting position, a person who is experiencing a state of nerves can find their performance improved quite drastically. Nerves can highten your perceptions and awareness, sharpen your reflexes and speed. The fact you are somewhat nervous - or not - is not a matter which you youself should be worried about, so to speak.'

Another silence descended whilst the wards translated this speech.

'Well,' muttered Horace shoving a massive leg of turkey into his mouth, 'he should be totally freaked around now; I mean, dude, seriously you are so goin dooooown.'

Alyss rose to her feet her dress billowing out behind her, her dandruff-free, grease-free blonde hair gracefully tumbling down over her shoulders giving off the scent of DoveTM strawberry shampoo. In a voice that sounded like a chorus of really nice, alto-pitched instruments, playing in a charming D#, she said, 'Ah Will, (my potential love interest) I am sure that all of us are nervous, we would twerps not to be.'

'I'm not,' snorted Horace.

Alyss raised a single elegantly plucked eyebrow (starting off a long-standing tradition that would continue through all the books) and Jenny smirked and then hastily reapplied her bright red lipstick which was beginning to loose a little of it's luster.

Will thought that it was typical of Alyss (his potential love interest) to resolve an argument. The insert some nice comment about Alyss' figure here girl had been promised a place as an apprentice by Lady Pauline who was head of Castle Pinkmont's Smart and Intelligent People Service.

Jenny would naturally want to become a cook, her ladle-wacking skills were far beyond anyone else's which would put her in good standing. Chef Chubby was Pinkmont's top chef and was renowned as being the most awesomest ladle wacker to walk the earth. Jenny's (not so) easy going manner and (not so) unfailing good humour and (not so) happy demeanour would make her a good asset to Pinkmont's kitchens as Chef Chubby was always on the look-out for steely eyed and brained chefs.

Backside-Kicking School would be Horace's choice. Will glanced over at Horace who had demonlished and turkey and now moved onto a cow's leg, potatos and ham, scorning any food that was non-starchy or non-meaty. Horace was tall for his age with muscles that rippled every time he moved and made teenage girls scream and faint in his wake. Horace was the perfect Backside-Kicking recruit. Strong, fit, good hairdo. Sir Rodknee would not refuse him.

Which left lil' 'ol Will. What would he choose? Naturally he wanted to become a Backside-Kicking School recruit and take after his deceased father (who may or may not have been a knight).

Horace stared at Will across the table, 'Ofobobo bodogooo Obo, ogoiwoihooooieofofofooo,' he said around a mouthful of potatoes.

'Eh?' asked Alyss, her harmonic voice making even that single monosyllable sound musical.

'Ugh,' said Jenny and readjusted her make-up.

George, who spoke excellent food-speak translated, 'He says that Will needs to build himself up if he wants to apply for Backside-Kicking School.'

Horace smirked around his potatoes provoking another "ugh" from Jenny.

Will scowled at Horace so ferociously that the daisies in the vase in front of him shriveled up and died.

Horace and Will were constantly fighting with one another verbally or physically, the whole "wardmates must stand together and hold hands around a campfire whilst singing cheesy songs" didn't always get pulled off in Castle Pinkmont.

'You need serious guns to get into Backside-Kicking School man,' said Horace, flexing his biceps to prove the point and provoking an "oooh" from Jenny, 'real muscles,' he finished pleased his statement.

'Are there any other,' muttered Will as Horace looked around to see whether any of his fellow wardmates agreed with him.

The other wards quickly struck up a conversation about pink rabits, a natural reaction to the growing tension in the room.

'Especially between your ears,' put in Will who had a store of witty remarks that he kept ready to produce at a moments notice.

Jenny smirked at this which irritated Horace. The muscular boy rose from his seat with a rippling of his muscles but was to late as Will legged it out of the room, elegantly vaulting over a table without cracking his shins on the edge. Horace paused for a moment trying to think of a suitable insult to throw at the rapidly retreating form. Eventually he came up with one:

'Yeah, run away Will no-middle and no-surname! You've got no surname or middle name so no-one is gonna want you!'

(You can really see the blossoms of the epic bromance which will begin in later chapters emerging here can't you?)

Outside Will's puppy-like brown eyes grew even more puppy-like and mournfull. It was the comment that stung the most. Whilst all the other wards at Pinkmont knew something about their parents he knew nothing about his. Will had been found outside Castle Pinkmont one night in a beer crate with a name attacked to his blanket reading:

His Mother died in childbirth,

His Father died a Hero,

Please care for him (cause I don't really want him at the moment),

His name is Will (spelt W-I-L-L ) 

Baron A'rald had been a kindlyish man behind his fearsome demeanour and had set up an orphange in Castle Pinkmont for those children who had been orphaned in his fief.

It seemed logical to assume that, if the note was true, that Will's father had died in the war against Moranate and since Baron Barald had taken a leading part in the war he felt that he should honour Will's father's sacrifice.

So Will had become one of the wards at Castle Pinkmont, gradually others had come until there were five in his year group. However, they all had memories of their parents or at least people who knew them. Will however, new nothing of his past.

He therefore invented a story about his father when he was little until he'd come to actually believe it was true himself.

His father had died as a hero. So it made sense that he would picture his father as a knight (maybe) cutting his way through loads of Gargals (believable ish) until he was eventually taken down by the sheer numbers of the creatures (that sounds reasonable).

As a backside-kicking warrior his father (who may or may not have been a knight) would have wanted him to go to Backside-Kicking School to follow in his footsteps. That was why it was so important for Will to go there.

Will exited the Ward building and went into the dark castle yard enter interesting description of dark castle yard here

He hesitated and decided not to go back to the ward to face Horace's taunts.

Instead he decided to climb a tree (as you do).

In the dark (health and safety rules didn't really matter that much back then).

So he climbed a tree in the dark and didn't die even though the smaller branches at the top of the tree bended under his weight.

Looking down on the castle yard he saw Alyss step out and look around for him, her voice in an echoing D# called for him as she looked around, eventually she shrugged and disapeared back inside leaving Will to meditate on how people don't really ever look up (which is wise as you never know when a random bird may decide to fly overhead and poop).

There was a rustle of feathers and Will turned to see a barn owl land on the branch next to him.

'At least you know who you are,' he said softly to the bird.

The bird eyed him for a moment then with a fearsome screech attacked Will who let out a stream of censored words. The barn owl screeched again and then flew off into the night leaving Will sitting in the branch looking somewhat puzzled, 'Why me?' he asked pitifully.

There was a sudden crack and the branch which Will was sitting on shattered in two, he let out a high-pitched scream which would rival a girls and then realized that he wasn't actually falling, having just dropped a few centimeters onto another, stronger branch below him.

(Let us take a moment to learn from Will's mistake of climbing too high up a tree and almost breaking his neck which would have then meant no Ranger's Apprentice books and no awesome Halt moments and no weird pairings for Will and no angsty "let's-beat-up-Will" fanfics).

Clearing his throat and trying to gather back up his composure, Will slowly climbed back down the tree and made his way to his bed in the boy's dormitory in the Ward.


End file.
